


May I have this Dance?

by Rinny636



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007), Transformers Generation One
Genre: Autobots and Decepticons at peace, Book worm Optimus, Cybertron, Dancing, Drinks, M/M, Megatron and Ultra Magnus are best buds, Megatron just wants to drink in peace damnit, Pining, Romance, Smug Sentinel, Strika is there to help, The War Ended before the events of TFA take place, also Starscream is an instigator of romance, drunks, everyone is drunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-03 02:45:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14559150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinny636/pseuds/Rinny636
Summary: The War ended with peaceful ties between the Autobots and Decepticons, now all that Megatron wants is a vacation. Too bad he's getting dragged to a nightclub instead. Why does everyone try to hook him up? He can find his own partner, Primus damnitLike that little red and blue Autobot standing at the bar, he looks cute- erm, nice





	May I have this Dance?

**Author's Note:**

> So I was inspired to write this after watching "Babylon Berlin", and a little song in the series called "Zu Asche, Zu Staub (Psycho Nikoros)". Good song, good series, and so here be romance. 
> 
> There might be a part 2, so stay tuned.

Peace had come to Cybertron, in fact by some miracle Cybertron was spared a future with a dying planet. Instead, Autobots and Decepticons were able to come together with an equality that rattled the old Elite Guard government to the ground. Ultra Magnus had grown wise to the ways of the corrupted Council and Senate, allowing himself to listen to Megatron’s tale of Decepticon survival under the old government. Together, they brought a brighter future to Cybertron. 

Peace was a wonderful thing right? Right. 

Now, all Megatron wanted was a vacation. 

Megatron swirled the martini glass of bright, pink highgrade, the little rust-stick accent in the glass following the flow of the energon. He was sitting in a private booth with two of his Chief Officers, Starscream and Strika. The three of them enjoying a night out after dealing with a heavy, mind-numbing work day. Being the leader of a faction of Warbuilds and Seekers certainly has its perks, problem was that he barely got any time to relax. 

He was in the middle of a rather large data-report load when Starscream and Strika came barging into his office, threatening to ‘hog-tie’ him as the humans would say, and drag him out to face the living world if he didn’t put down that datapad at once. Of course, neither Strika nor Starscream were a threat on their own, but together-- well, he might have his work cut out for him there. So he agreed to take the night off. 

And here he was, sitting in the VIP booth of a two-story nightclub in Polyhex, with a live band performing on the stage downstairs. The VIP booths were situated upstairs with a private bar, each booth situated by the railing so patrons could look down the dance floor below. Bright colors of reds, greens, and blues swirled around the room as the music played, dancing bodies of patrons were moving and swaying to the music on the dance floor. Megatron watched from his place in the booth, still holding onto his glass of energon. 

“You should go down there,” came Starscream’s voice to his right. 

The Decepticon leader rolled his optics, venting, “You know very well, Starscream, that I am _not_ going to do that.” 

“And why not?” the seeker quirked an optic ridge, practically slurping at his flute of blue highgrade. 

One of Megatron’s optics twitched at that, but decided to remain silent. Strika eyed him, holding her copper cup of pink highgrade, “Rusty, my lord?” 

“I am not _rusty_ ,” Megatron snapped. 

“Then, by all means,” Strika motioned towards the dancefloor, “Go and enjoy yourself, my lord.” 

“ _No_ ,” Megatron turned towards his General, narrowing his optics. Oh he could see it, the little gears in Strika’s head already turning to the dastardly plan she was concocting and most likely co-conspiring with his Air Commander. 

“Then you _are_ rusty?” Strike quirked an optic ridge towards Megatron. 

“I’ve already said that I am not,” Megatron frowned, “Do not make me _repeat_ myself, Strika.” 

Starscream grinned, “So you’re afraid of embarrassing yourself, lord Megatron,” he slurped on his flute again before swallowing, “It’s _perfectly_ understandable.” 

“I am not afraid, either,” Megatron sneered, sipping on his energon and already feeling his circuits beginning to burn with agitation. _Primus, just drop it and let me drink in peace!_

“Afraid of what, may I ask?” came a calming voice. 

All three pairs of red optics turned towards the tall figure that had arrived to their booth. Holding a pint of blue energon, but without the overbearing weight of his hammer, stood Ultra Magnus. The Autobot leader seemed rather relax, his professional appearance all but gone as he took a drink of his highgrade. The three Decepticons blinked, Megatron breaking the silence, “Magnus,” he greet, though there was a twinge of surprise in his voice, “I must say it is-- a shock to see you out at this late hour.” 

The Autobot chuckled, “To be completely honest, I’m a little surprised to find you here, Megatron.” He motioned towards the booth, “May I?” 

Starscream moved from his spot to sit next to Strika, allowing Ultra Magnus to sit next to Megatron. The Autobot set his glass down on the booth table, blue optics turning to the Decepticon leader. He nodded to the other two occupants of in the booth, “So did you get guilt-tripped into coming out as well?” 

Megatron chuckled, “More like _threatened_ ,” he looked back to Strika and Starscream who were currently engaging into a private conversation with each other. He turned back to the Autobot, quirking an optic ridge, “How did you get ‘guilt-tripped’ into coming?” 

Ultra Magnus turned to look towards the private bar across the floor of the VIP floor, motioning towards a few Autobots waiting for their drinks. “Jazz basically counted off the various times I’ve missed any _holiday, creation date, celebration,_ and _so on, and so forth_ ,” he laughed cynically, “The fragger.” 

The Decepticon leader chuckled once more, leaning over to look passed Ultra Magnus. He could see Jazz at the bar, the black and white pattern unmistakable even in the flashing colors of the bar. There were a few other mechs with him, three other Autobots standing by the bar. He recognized Sentinel Prime, the Autobot had made his presence quite clear at a trade agreement meeting with his loud mouth and massive ego. Sentinel was currently chatting up a yellow-plate femme, from what he could remember that was Elita-One. She was one of Ultra Magnus’ guards that accompanied him off planet from time to time. Megatron recalls her presence at the trade agreement meeting as well, mainly because she was the one that had smacked Sentinel upside the head to get him to shut his mouth. At least the Prime had a leash on him. 

As for the third mech… 

“Magnus,” Megatron blinked, “Who is that mech next to your _entourage?_ ” 

Ultra Magnus had just taken a sip of his high grade, optics turning towards the bar. He smiled, “Oh that’s Optimus,” he turned back to the Decepticon, “He’s one of my new Primes, a little young but has very promising potential.” 

“When does he start with the Elite Guard?” Megatron tapped at his glass, optics inspecting the red and blue Autobot standing meekly next to Sentinel and Elita-One. The mech looked almost uncomfortable to be at the bar, especially with his colleagues chatting so lively next to him. 

“Why, lord Megatron,” came the shrill seeker’s voice, “Are you interested?” 

Megatron’s helm snapped towards Starscream in a millisecond, “ _What?_ ” 

“You were staring at the little Autobot,” the seeker continued to still slurp at his flute of energon. Megatron was just seconds away from snatching the glass from him and throwing it against the wall. 

Ultra Magnus blinked, looking between Starscream and Megatron before sitting back against the seat. Blue optics met the red ones of the seeker, and Megatron could almost see the silent conversation playing out before him. _Magnus don’t you turn your back on me too!_ “I wouldn’t be opposed to introducing you, if you’re interested, Megatron?” the Autobot leader smirked. 

Megatron looked almost appalled, was Ultra Magnus seriously conspiring with his generals now?! “No-- no thank you, Magnus,” Megatron went to stare at his empty glass. He cleared his throat, standing up from the booth, “If you’ll excuse me,” he shuffled passed Ultra Magnus to step out of the booth, “I need to get some more energon.” The Decepticon leader moved faster than he intended, already feeling the piercing gazes of the menacing, conspiring Ultra Magnus and the Decepticon Generals. 

Primus, let him drink in peace! 

______________________________________________________ 

Megatron had set his glass down, ordering a double rather his usual for the sake that he was about to lose it back at the booth. He leaned heavily against the bar, rubbing at his optics with the palms of his hands, _Fraggers, the lot of them._ When the glass came back to him, more purple than pink highgrade greeted him and he was almost elated. He was about to reach for the glass when his hand clanged against metal, he saw that someone else was also reaching for the glass of energon. He narrowed his optics, who had the audacity to take the Decepticon Warlord’s drink?! 

When his optics turned to follow the appendage that was reaching for his drink, he found the familiar sight of red and blue staring back at him. His red optics met wide blue ones, and that’s when it dawned on Megatron, _Oh for frags sake._

It was the little Autobot in Ultra Magnus’ entourage, Optimus Prime who had dared to reach for the Decepticon’s drink. He was much shorter in person than expected, a red and blue color scheme with little hints of yellow. The little Autobot was staring back at him with shock, and a hint of fear in his optics. Optimus pulled his hand away immediately, “Oh Primus! I-I’m sorry!” he stammered. 

Megatron blinked, watching the smaller Autobot as he looked away from the Decepticon. Optimus cleared his throat, “Ah, apologies,” he said, “L-Lord Megatron. I-I thought that was my drink. I d-didn’t mean to barge in like that.” 

As if on cue, another drink was set next to Megatron’s and the Decepticon glanced at the glass. Sure enough, the drink was almost exactly the same as Megatron’s, a double with a rust stick accent. The Decepticon blinked, smirking as he grabbed both of the glasses, taking one in his hand and then handing Optimus the other. Megatron couldn’t help but chuckle as he held the glass out to the smaller Autobot, “It’s quite all right,” he said, voice low and melodious. The Decepticon titled his helm, “Though I was unaware of any other mech who could handle a double,” he said, chuckling once more, “You must have good taste.” 

Optimus looked up, optics blinking as he saw the glass in front of his face, carefully taking it from the Decepticon. He held it with both hands, “Uh, well,” the Autobot gave a sheepish laugh, “I’m just trying to unwind, I guess.” 

Megatron nodded, smirking, “Well,” he raised his glass to Optimus, “Here is to unwinding, then. Cheers.” 

He saw the bright smile appear on Optimus’ face, and the smaller Autobot reached up to clink his glass with Megatron’s, “Cheers!” 

As they took a sip of their drinks, Megatron became aware of a series of optics observing them from afar. He bit back the frown, though as soon as he pulled the glass away from his mouth, he dared to glance towards the booth. Sure enough, three pairs of optics were staring at them; Ultra Magnus with a knowing smirk while Starscream was making a ‘go on!’ motion with his hand. Megatron resisted the urge to groan, turning back to Optimus, “So,” he said, setting his glass down on the bar top, “Obviously you are aware of my designation, but I am not properly acquainted with yours.” _Well, not formally anyway, thank you for that, Magnus._

Optimus swallowed, “Oh!” he blinked, a sheepish smile forming on his lips, “My name is Optimus. Optimus Prime.” 

Megatron nodded, bowing his head, “Lord Megatron,” he said, bringing his helm up to look at the little Autobot, “At your service.” 

A small, shy smile appeared on Optimus’ face, and he moved to take a drink from his glass. “So what brings you here, sir?” The smaller Autobot set his drink aside, already feeling the buzzing highgrade course through his systems. 

The larger Decepticon motioned towards the booth by the railing, “My colleagues have accused me of delving too much into my work as of late.” He tapped the glass, shrugging, “So I was-- _coerced_ into coming here.” 

“Same here! Oh, well,” the younger Autobot laughed a bit, the twinge of a blush appeared on his faceplates, “Sort of, anyway.” 

“ _Sort of_ , you say?” Megatron quirked an optic ridge. 

Optimus shrugged, “I like to read. Well, I like to read _a lot_ ,” he said, “At least that’s what Sentinel and Elita keep saying. So they dragged me out here so the ‘ _datapads won’t suck out my processor_ ’ as they put it.” 

Megatron chuckled, “It appears we have ourselves some pushy colleagues,” he sipped at his drink, “What do you like to read?” 

“History archives,” Optimus tapped at his glass again, “I’m a bit of a sucker for the old history, what happened in the war, and everything in between.” 

“A history buff, then?” Megatron smiled. 

“Yeah, especially the Great War,” Optimus almost mused over the thought, “At some point, I hope I could speak with Ultra Magnus and possibly pick his processor about his experience.” He took a sip of his drink, his thoughtful smile growing into an ambitious smirk, “Maybe at some point when I’m older, write a data archive of my own.” 

Megatron quirked an optic ridge, the smirk heavy on his features as he leaned against the bar next to Optimus. “Well,” he turned the glass in his hand, “When you finally get him down for a talk, perhaps I could lend a story or two of my own.” 

“Really?” Optimus’ optics lit up like the stars above. 

Megatron nodded, “Of course,” he smiled, “I myself am a lover of history as well, though these days I hope to preserve it correctly with the new generations. Why not try sharing a few of my first-hand experiences with the Rebellion?” 

“That would be great!” Optimus almost seemed to jump in his spot before he realized he had been too loud. He cleared his throat, “I-I mean, I would like that very much, Lord Megatron, sir.” 

Megatron chuckled, “Just promise me that you’ll write of me kindly when you put together that archive of yours.” 

“Deal!” Optimus giggled, and it was a delight to hear over the booming music in the club. 

An obnoxiously loud laugh erupted next to them, and Megatron turned to look over Optimus’ shoulders as they both turned towards the sound. It was Sentinel still talking up a storm with Elita-One, while Jazz was next to them, speaking with a black and gold bot by the bar. Sentinel then turned to look in their direction, “Hey Optimus!” he called out to the smaller Autobot from afar, waving Optimus over. 

The smaller Autobot visibly deflated, and he turned back to Megatron, “Uh, I’m sorry sir. I have to- um--” 

Megatron smiled, “It’s quite alright,” he motioned towards the group, “Go towards your friends.” 

Optimus gave a shy smile, “Thank you, sir,” he said, and he bowed his head, “It was lovely talking to you, Lord Megatron.” 

“Quite the same, Optimus,” he nodded towards the smaller Autobot, watching as he turned around towards the group by the bar. 

Megatron sighed, pulling his drink back into his grasp as he turned back towards the booth. He could see that Starscream had already face-palmed, while Ultra Magnus merely shook his helm, and Strika was out right glaring daggers towards Sentinel standing by the bar. The Decepticon just rolled his optics, moving to return to the group at the booth. 

_______________________________________________________ 

As the night went on, Megatron’s optics kept a close optic on the little Autobot in red and blue. He watched as Optimus seemed to almost follow the group like a little lost puppy, dragging behind as they went to take a seat at a booth. Even from afar, the Decepticon could see how uncomfortable the smaller Autobot was with the group. Optimus sat among Sentinel and Elita, with Jazz and the gold and black Autobot in the seats across from them in the booth; the little Autobot was almost like a fifth wheel. 

Actually, in fact, that’s _exactly_ what he was. 

From his observation, Megatron could see Optimus’ want to engage in conversation but was often left out in the dust whenever someone else spoke up first. He would visibly sigh, his optics looking flatly towards the group before he took a swig of his drink. This continued for a few hours into the night, and Optimus was already three glasses in, though surprisingly seemed unfazed. There came a point where the other Autobots in the group would switch off towards the dance floor downstairs, and they would all look over the railing to watch and heckle at the couple. Optimus was always left alone in the booth or with the rest of the group to call out at whoever was dancing downstairs, though he stayed rather quiet. 

Megatron kept wondering why the little Autobot wasn’t engaging towards the others in his group for dance. Not that Optimus wasn’t a looker, but he seemed rather sweet and polite, someone who’d be nice to have a relaxing, slow dance with. Not that Megatron noticed anyway, he was trying to focus on _other_ important things at the moment. Like his drink! Yes, his drink, it was almost empty and the rust sticks were all soggy. He could see that Optimus’ drink was almost empty as well, perhaps he could buy the little Autobot a drink and- _of for fraggin’ Primus sake!_

The Decepticon was just about ready to bang his helm on the table, his frame sinking in his seat. Why was he bothering with this whole charade anyway? It’s not like the little Autobot would be interested; this was all Starscream and Strika’s doing-- and Ultra Magnus. They were all against him! The lot of them! Traitors! Why do they enjoy pushing him into doing things like this when he knew it was a lost cause?! 

Speaking of which; Starscream was chatting up a storm with Strika and Ultra Magnus, however Megatron had little interest in the conversation. He decided to look over, once again, at the neighboring booth where the little Autobot sat. His red optics found Optimus sitting amongst the group of his colleagues once more, Sentinel and Elita looked to be a bit out of breath. They were speaking amongst each other, however this time Optimus appeared to actually be engaging. _Hmm, wonder what they were talking about…_

Megatron blinked, then frowned as he groaned internally; _frag it all._

With a tap of his finger, the Decepticon leader activated the sound enhancement on his audials. He zeroed in on the group of younger Autobots sitting a booth over, and then leaned forward, listening carefully. 

_“- all I’m saying Optimus,”_ It was Sentinel speaking, _“Is that you can’t go around and just talk to the Lord of Decepticons out of the blue!”_

_“But I did,”_ Optimus seemed a little more determined, _“He seemed to be enjoying himself, too.”_

_“Optimus, buddy, that was all a face,”_ a slurp; agh Primus, Sentinel was slurping his drink too! _“He was just doing to be polite, not like the Megatron has any time to talk to plebs when he’s got higher class mechs to hang around with.”_

_“Sentinel,”_ came the warning tone of Elita-One. 

_“No, seriously!”_ Sentinel leaned across the table to speak with Optimus directly, _“Honestly, Optimus- no offense- but you’re not exactly the most exciting bot to hang around with.”_

_“What do you mean?”_ Optimus was rather confused. 

_“What I mean is- you’re so boring it’s almost intolerable! With all your archives and slag like that, who **reads** anymore? And to top it off- you’re a rookie Prime in the ranks, Optimus,”_ Sentinel shrugged, sitting back against his seat, _“Megatron ain’t got time for that when he could be with professional, more experienced mechs- like myself! He’s not gonna bother with a rook, not at his level.”_

The look on Optimus’ could be described as none other than defeat, those blue optics looking down to his drink. The little Autobot went silent as he sat back in the booth, the only sound was Sentinel slurping at his drink again. The larger Prime put his drink down on the table with ease, then reached over to swing an arm around Elita-One’s shoulders. The femme frowned, though said nothing as she crossed her arms in her seat. Sentinel continued, _“Sorry Optimus, but it’s the truth-”_

_“- No one wants to be with a intolerable Prime.”_

Megatron’s fists fell onto the table, rattling it so much that the glasses on top trembled. He had a faint snarl on his face, trying to compose himself as he sat amongst his colleagues. The fragger! The nerve of that Prime! How dare he! Optimus has showed more class in his little finger than that pompous blowhard could muster in a lifetime! And Sentinel had the _gall_ to speak on his behalf when that _pig-headed Prime_ had no idea how he felt! If the treaty regulations weren’t in place, Megatron would’ve _gladly_ thrown a punch to Sentinel’s face in a split second! 

The Decepticon warlord seethed in his seat, suddenly growing aware of the three pairs of optics that were staring back at him. Ultra Magnus looked concerned, however, Starscream and Strike seemed intrigued. The seeker tapped his finger against the table, “Something troubling you, lord Megatron?” 

Megatron didn’t answer, just sneered as his line of sight was preoccupied with the neighboring booth just mere feet away. He was trying to calculate a plan, though nothing seemed to be sticking. He couldn’t be brash, nor could he be quiet about it either, he had to find the right balance to approach this situation. He also didn’t want the younger Autobots to get wind that he was listening in on their conversation as well, being a creeper Decepticon wasn’t a title he’d like to add to his list, thank you very much. With all the battles and wars he fought, this _should_ be a cake walk! He was the _Mighty Lord Megatron_ for Primus sake! He racked his processor for an in, still coming up short in ideas. 

That was until the lights began to dim and the soft melody of piano began to play. The little light bulb went off in Megatron’s processor, and he found himself excusing himself from the table. 

___________________________________________________ 

Optimus was sitting at the booth with the group, though while everyone else was chatting away, he kept to himself. He was looking down at his drink, optics finding interest in the slowly dissolving rust stick accent. He couldn’t help but find truth in Sentinel’s words; he was always quiet and preferred to keep to himself. He’d prefer to read up on history instead of going out and mingle, he wasn’t much of a social butterfly like the rest of his friends. It made him wonder why they kept asking him to join them all the time if he was, as Sentinel put it, “No the most exciting bot to hang out with.” 

He hadn’t noticed when the lights began to dim, nor the music beginning to play as someone announced the singer that was coming to the stage downstairs. Optimus didn’t even notice when the conversations around him at the table abruptly stop, and everyone was looking at the tall mech standing at the booth. 

“Excuse me, Optimus,” came a familiar low and _melodious_ voice. 

Optimus froze, optics blinking as he was pulled out of his processor. He turned to look towards the source of the voice and his optics went wide. He found Megatron standing there, though no drink in his hand and his red optics a glowing warmth in the darkness. The Decepticon extended an hand towards the smaller Autobot, “Would you care to dance with me?” 

All the air in his vents seemed to escape his frame as Optimus locked up, staring up to the larger Decepticon. He blinked, looking towards the large hand clad in black that was holding out to him, and then towards those ruby, red optics once again. He glanced around the booth, finding all the occupants all staring, completely and utterly flabbergasted that the _Lord of Decepticons_ was even asking a lower ranking Prime to dance in the first place. Despite all the gawking faces, Megatron stood calm, cool, and collected as he waited patiently for a reply. The Decepticon was giving a small smile towards the little Autobot, and Optimus found that was more than enough. 

“Y-Yes,” Optimus reached out, clasping Megatron’s hand with his own, “Yes I would love to.” 

The Decepticon’s smile broaden, and he gently pulled the smaller Autobot out of the seat, “Wonderful.” 

As Megatron began to lead Optimus away from the booth and towards the stairs to the dancefloor downstairs, he took a second to glance back at the pairs of optics that were currently glued to his back. He could make out Ultra Magnus nodding towards him, holding up his glass to cheers towards him. Starscream on the other hand was holding two thumbs up, snickering like a weasel as he sat in his seat next to Strika, who held a rather pleased expression on her face. As for the group of younger Autobots in the neighboring booth, he could vaguely make out the smirks and smiles from Elita-One and Jazz. However the complete and utter shocked expression from Sentinel was still there an clear as day, and he glanced towards the smug Prime to shoot back his own triumphant smirk. 

Megatron could faintly hear Sentinel sputtering as he lead Optimus to the dancefloor. 

_______________________________________________________ 

The singer was beginning her verse of the song when they stepped onto the dance floor, the piano music beginning to ramp up. Megatron was still holding onto Optimus’ hand when they stepped down, the smaller Autobot still quite shy. So the Decepticon decided to take the lead, guiding the smaller Autobot towards the middle of the dance floor amongst the mass of bodies. The tempo was quickening as more of the musicians joined in on the song as Megatron turned to face Optimus, his hand gently grasping the smaller one. 

Optimus seemed rather sheepish, his blue optics looking around as if he were embarrassed. Megatron blinked, tilting his helm and then leaning in so the smaller Autobot could hear him, “What's wrong?” he asked. 

“I-I can’t really-- um,” Optimus frowned, looking away from the Decepticon, “I can’t really dance.” 

That brought a toothy smile to Megatron’s face, leaving Optimus’ only reaction with a confused frown. “My dear Optimus Prime,” the Decepticon said, chuckling, “That really is no trouble at all.” 

Optimus blinked, rather confused and was about to speak when Megatron pulled him closer. The Decepticon was wrapping an arm around Optimus' slim waist while holding the Autobot’s hand with the other. The tempo to the music sped up, and soon the chorus rang out in a beautiful melody that cause a wave of lights to spread across the dance floor. “Let me guide you,” Megatron said with a smile, watching as Optimus seemed reluctant but gave a very meek nod. 

And with that confirmation, Megatron was allowed to bring Optimus along for the ride as they danced across the floor. Even with the Autobot’s smaller stature, it felt as if they were gliding across the floor, Megatron moving with a even sway with the tempo of the music. The band was playing vigorously, bringing up the beat to where the Decepticon could see Optimus visibly relaxing as they dance acrossed the floor. 

A smile broke out on those soft blue cheeks, and Optimus was giggling as Megatron lead him in their dance. The Decepticon released him for a moment, twirling the Autobot with one hand and then carefully guiding him back to his embrace. That was when the song was coming to an end, and when the music finally stopped, Megatron found himself holding Optimus close; their faceplates mere centimeters away from each other. The lights dimmed once again, and all they could see were each other’s optics in the darkness; red optics staring into those glowing pools of crystal blue. 

Someone moved, Megatron wasn’t sure if was him or Optimus, but their chassis were pressing against each other in the darkness. Their faceplates met, lips pressing against each other with gentle ease, and at that moment nothing seemed to matter. Even when the lights sprang back on to reveal Optimus and Megatron kissing on the dance floor, they didn’t care. Not even when they heard the loud catcall from Starscream and the whistling from Ultra Magnus on the second floor. Even when they heard the sputtering comments from Sentinel Prime, they didn’t care. 

They pulled apart softly, optics onlining to look into each other's gaze, just as the band began to play another melody. Optimus allowed a soft smile to cross over his lips, “Dance with me?” 

There was a bright smile on the Decepticon's face, "I’d _love_ to,” came Megatron’s soft reply, and thus he guided the smaller Autobot once more. Though this time, Optimus decided to add his own touches to their dance, including a well-placed caress of the Decepticon’s helm. 

Megatron would have to thank Starscream and Strika later. 


End file.
